Mission Accomplished
by Cortexikid
Summary: Make Peter Bishop trust you, want you, need you, love you. Judging by his soft lips on hers and the warm, strong arms wrapping around her waist she could say that mission was nearly accomplished. Alt-Livia/Peter.


**Mission Accomplished**

**By Cortexikid**

**Disclaimer: Fringe is not mine, unfortunately. *Epic sad face!***

**A/N: Okay, this fic has been haunting my brain since the finale, and even more so since I saw some particular spoiler pics. I can truly say, I don't think AND CERTAINLY DON'T WANT this to actually happen in the show, it's kinda a worst case scenario. But, it wouldn't let me rest until it was down on paper…err…cyber paper. So, enjoy…well, you know…**

PREVIOUS INSTRUCTIONS COMPLETE.

PROCEED AS DISCUSSED. REPORT BACK UPON COMPLETION.

AFFIRMATIVE MISTER S

A shrill noise erupted from the pocket of one Olivia Dunham. Quickly, she typed the last few letters before standing up from the table. Digging her hand into the plain black slacks and retrieving the ringing cell phone she couldn't help the miniscule fraction of a smile grace her lips as the familiar name flashed across the screen. Catching herself, irritably she shook her head and clicked the green button.

"Dunham," she spoke quietly, yet curtly, glancing back to the now stagnant typewriter.

"Hey, 'Livia, I'm at your place. Where are you?"

That voice. She ignored the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach as she heard it.

"Hey, Peter, yeah sorry, I had to run an errand but I'm on my way back now," she replied, walking out of the room and store without passing the shop-keeper a second glance.

"Alright, Dunham," she could hear the smile in his tone as she hung up.

It had been a few weeks now, since her infiltration. To say things here were, odd, would be putting it lightly. It was like transporting back in time. Their technology was…old. Like from her mother's time. Their cell-phones, computers, transport, medicine, to name but a few. Other slight differences were their histories. Her breathing hitched when she first noticed the absence of the World Trade Center, her brow furrowed in confusion at the strange people on their dollars but what shocked her the most was not the minute details and differences. It was how seemingly…unharmed this universe is.

No gaping holes or tears in the fabric of the universe, no withering plant life, no thousands of people encased in amber declared legally 'dead', no bees the size of grapefruits and absolutely no sign of any quarantine. It looks like this side got off easy.

Every time she thought about this injustice, her blood would boil and she'd get a steady reminder of why she was here in the first place. But, with the addition of 'her' no-longer-deceased sister and unknown but adorable niece, she could feel the cracks in her seemingly unrelenting need to win begin to form. And that's not even mentioning her self-proclaimed 'unsavoury' thoughts and…feelings about a certain other-worldly FBI consultant.

She could not deny that he was handsome, because he was. Very.

_Think about Frank. Your loving boyfriend Frank._

And she also couldn't deny that he was charming, because he was. Very.

_Frank, Frank, Frank._

Merely thinking about denying the fact that he was funny would just be plain ridiculous. Very.

_Frank who gives you massages after a long day at work._

Refuting the idea that he is probably the smartest man you've ever met (aside from his father) would just be plain stupid. Very.

_Frank who loves you more than anything in the world._

But the one thing she found herself rebuffing most of all was the gravity of her thoughts of late. As she and Peter got more comfortable around each other and as she grew to (to some small degree) enjoy the feel of his lips on hers, she found herself entertaining the idea of what things had have been like between them had they both grown up in her universe.

That, she did not expect.

The guilt of entertaining these thoughts was enough to feel like infidelity to Frank but she just couldn't help it. The jack-of-all-trades, pseudo-scientist had crossed her mind and now wouldn't leave. No matter what she did. Peter Bishop was firmly in her brain, unwilling to be forced out and nothing she did could do so.

She thought of her other self then. During these vulnerable moments where she (utterly alone) allowed these ridiculous fantasies to form. How would the other 'Livia feel about this? She wouldn't wager on happy. She knew, by one glance at that all-too-familiar face that the woman was in love with him, even if at the time she was unwilling to admit to even herself, or an alternate version.

She supposed, if her alter self was not a monster then she could find it in heart to pity her a little. But she was, is.

The only thing is now, after weeks of being in this 'safer', unharmed world; Olivia Dunham (for the first time in a long while) was beginning to doubt her judgement. Yes, it had at first been all about winning, getting the upper hand on the universe that practically destroyed hers but now, now things were different.

She'd seen how her alter-self lived, worked, loved.

She had met the people close to her alter-self.

Hell, she had been her alter-self. Learnt her history. Heard all about her hardship.

So yeah, she had doubts. Tiny, lingering, raw doubts that clawed on the edge of her mercy and dangled dangerously close to her brazenness.

But he, he is what topped them all.

She didn't have any doubts about him. She knew that if she said the word he would drop his 'lets take this slow' gentlemanly act and show her just how much he cared about 'her' in a heart-beat. But that, doing that, she was a woman on a mission but right now, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Not only due to her relationship with Frank (although that was the largest part of it) but she just didn't think she could put Peter through that. After all, he was from her side. They were allies, almost. She couldn't…hurt…him like that. Not because she had any substantial feelings for him or anything but just out of respect for her fellow member of the Other Side. That's all.

Pulling up outside her apartment and killing the engine in her FBI issue SUV she saw him, sitting on the steps, carrying what looked like grocery bags. The persistent, miniscule smile graced her lips once more. Opening her car door, she deliberately turned her back to him as she took off her suit jacket and flicked her newly dyed blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Bout time, Dunham, I was beginning to think you got lost," he remarked, the smirk in his voice evident, standing up and waiting for her to join him.

She turned around briskly, rolling her eyes at him. They stood merely two feet apart then, almost daring each other to make the first move.

It seemed like today it would be him as his hand reached out and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch (merely mimicking what she thought the other Olivia would do, of course), the smile growing a tad bigger. Looking up into his eyes she saw the honesty there, the bare flood of emotions behind them that he would so vehemently deny existed if questioned.

But they were not for her. Not his eyes, his face, his body, his mind and certainly not his heart. Not hers.

She thought of her mission as his lips edged closer to hers. Firstly: Infiltrate. Secondly: Gather data of their world and individuals in it. Finally: Make Peter Bishop trust you, want you, need you, love you.

Judging by his soft lips on hers and the warm, strong arms wrapping around her waist she could say that that all three were near complete.

And then it would be 'Mission Accomplished.'

And she could go home. Where she belonged.

But for now? She'd kiss him back. And entertain fantasies. And try and forget the guilt she felt for both Frank and her other self.

**A/N: So I wanted to give Alt-Livia the benefit of the doubt. I don't see her being all bad, after all she is like our Olivia in some ways right?**** So yeah, hope you enjoyed somewhat even if (probably) none of us P/O fans would really like to see this in Season 3.**


End file.
